I woke up late the next day, once again sore, and even more ashamed of myself than the day before. I knew I was being forced into these things to gain some sort of bizarre perspective on life as a woman, but it was starting to wear me down.
Fortunately, the next gift (only one more!) seemed like it might actually help me relax. On the kitchen table sat a pipe, shaped like... something I'd been seeing in a whole new way lately. I turned the ceramic schlong over in my hands before lighting up.
"Ohh, yeah, that's good shit." As the drugs took effect, I felt myself mellow out dramatically. I even found myself forgiving George. He hadn't really wanted to do anything malicious. He was trying to look out for his sister. I respected that. Somebody's gotta stick up for us girls.
Hehe, I called myself a girl. It was hard enough keeping things straight sober, let alone with my brain floating in a fog. In a bog. With a log. Hang on, what was I saying again?
I lifted my shirt up. God, I loved having tits. So much fun to play with, and they let you make guys do whatever you wanted.
What if I had three tits? I'd be unstoppable! But then the guy would need three hands to play with them all.
Hang on, what am I even talking about? I should have a dick.
But why would I have a dick if I was a girl? How would guys fuck my pussy if I didn't have one? It did feel good in my hands, though. I swore this seems so familiar.
Damn, whatever I smoked was strong as hell.
Was I even human?
No, that was stupid. I was definitely human.
But a man or a woman?
There are too many people in my brain right now. I'm here, but I'm over there too? We need to go somewhere quieter and sort this out.
Let's back up. Maybe there were two of me. But are we still separate?
I'm not sure. Being a girl does feel right. Don't you agree?
I do. But which one of us was the boy?
If you're talking to yourself, does it matter?
God, I'm so baked right now. But I think I know what I have to do.
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